


breaking the rules

by crystalcities



Series: Wout + Mathieu [3]
Category: Cycling RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Fluff, M/M, i love my rarepair a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 12:37:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalcities/pseuds/crystalcities
Summary: Late July 2016: Wout visits Mathieu at home.





	breaking the rules

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liefde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liefde/gifts).



> (I hope it's ok that I keep gifting these to you! It's because you're the only other person in the world who might enjoy this haha)
> 
> This one is set in July/August 2016. In 2015 Mathieu needed to have knee surgery after crashing in a road race, and the problem seemed to linger. After crashing a few more times (as he does) when he’s racing mountain bikes in 2016, he needed to have surgery again and missed the summer road racing and the beginning of the cyclocross season. I remember all the hand wringing about how his injuries might cause problems with his career, and look at where he is now :)
> 
> All that preamble, but I actually just wanted to write about Wout and Mathieu having sex in his parent’s house (I’m pretty sure that's where he lives in 2016). :blushes:
> 
> I guess I’ve been posting these around races, so I hope Wout wins a stage or two in the Tour which I normally cannot care less about <3

It’s a beautiful summer day in Kapellan. It would be a great day to be outside, maybe for a long ride around the countryside, or ripping in the woods on a mountain bike. Instead Mathieu was laid up at home, recovering from knee surgery yet again. Yesterday the physiotherapist said he could resume light activity in a week, but in the meantime he’s going a bit stir-crazy.

There’s a knock on his bedroom door.

“Come in,” Mathieu said, happy for anything to distract from his boredom. The door opened and Mathieu lit up at the sight of Wout, dressed casually and holding a bouquet of multicolored daisies. He swung his legs off the bed, excited about the visitor. Wout quickly shut the door, stepping forward and gesturing for Mathieu to stay still.

“Mathieu. Don’t hurt yourself.” Wout handed him the flowers.

“It’s not that bad. I’m not made of glass,” Mathieu demurred and accepted the bouquet, sitting on the edge of the bed. He couldn't help smiling. “I don’t think anyone’s brought me flowers before.”

“Except on the podium,” Wout leaned over to kiss Mathieu softly, grinning.

“I like this better. Come here,” Mathieu got back in bed, made a space next to him, beckoning Wout to join him.

“I’m so honored that you like being around me more than getting on the podium.” Wout let Mathieu yank on him until they’re mostly lined up, facing each other.

“I like both. But maybe if we’re both on the podium I can be on the top step, and you and whoever’s third can kiss me.”

Wout laughed at the slightly weird image that popped into his head. In the meantime Mathieu unzipped Wout’s hoody and pulled it off his shoulders. He yanked on Wout some more until he could lie flat on his back with Wout half on top of him. He tangled his hands in Wout’s hair, messing up the style, and met his lips in a hungry kiss. His hands wandered as they kissed, and he explored wherever he could reach on Wout’s body, liking the firm planes and curves and dips he found.

“Mmm. You might have to stop winning. I don’t think I’m going to let anybody else kiss you,” Wout said when they broke for a moment to breathe. Mathieu giggled, showing Wout an adorably immature side of him that he hadn't let many other people in on. He kept pulling on Wout’s shirt, until he got the idea and took it off himself. Mathieu explored all of the newly exposed bare skin with his hands and lips, pulling quiet noises out of Wout that vibrated through Mathieu’s body whenever he touched something particularly sensitive.

Mathieu wedged a knee between Wout's legs and arched up experimentally. He’s pleased to find that Wout was getting hard too. He tried to rub up against him in a somewhat energetic fashion, sighing at the contact. Frustratingly Wout sat up and placed a hand on his sternum after only a few seconds.

“Hey. Are you supposed to move around that much?” Wout said.

“Come on,” Mathieu pouted.

Wout grinned at Mathieu’s puppy-dog expression. “How about you stay still and I help you?”

Wout bent over, kissed Mathieu’s mouth, and continued wetly along his neck, over the fabric of his t-shirt, on his chest, his abs. The hem had ridden up, and Wout kissed the bare skin there, before taking the shirt off entirely. He folded it and set it on the nightstand, and went back to palm Mathieu through his sweatpants. Mathieu bit his lip. Wout pulled the sweatpants down and off Mathieu, taking care not to disturb the dressing around his knees. He folded the sweatpants and underwear too and stacked it neatly on top of the shirt. He took the daisies from the bed where they’d surely get crushed, and set it on top of everything. He knelt in front of Mathieu, considered him for a moment, and grabbed a few pillows (why did Mathieu have so many?), propping them under his knees. When he's satisfied with how Mathieu's positioned, he scooted down to the foot of the bed, laid on his front, and propped himself up on his elbows between Mathieu's legs. Mathieu lay still the whole time, breathing shallowly. Wout noted the way he looked, expression open, pupils blown, hair a mess, hard cock curving towards his belly, and committed the image to memory. He kissed the insides of Mathieu’s thighs where the flesh is sensitive, liking the way Mathieu breathed out shakily as he did it. Finally he grasped Mathieu’s cock firmly, giving it a long-awaited stroke from root to tip. Mathieu squeezed his eyes shut, a moan escaping his lips.

“Shh. Your parents are around,” Wout said, smiling mischievously.

Mathieu blushed. “I know.”

Wout winked at him, licked his lips and took the head of Mathieu’s cock in his mouth. Mathieu made a half choked-off sound at that, and fisted his hands in the sheets. Wout swirled his tongue around, lapping just under the ridge, paying extra attention to spots that he knew from past experience drove Mathieu crazy. He liked how responsive Mathieu was, shuddering, tensing up, breath coming unevenly as he tried to stay quiet. He let go for a moment, spat in his hand and gave Mathieu’s cock a few firm strokes. When a bead of precum started forming at the slit, he pressed his tongue against the opening and lapped it up, humming in approval. He took the shaft in his mouth again, now sucking and bobbing his head up and down with a more urgent pace. Mathieu squeezed his shoulders between his thighs, toes curling against the sheets. Wout slowly increased the depth as he warmed up to it, and he kept a tight pressure on whatever he couldn’t fit in his mouth with his hand. His other hand was splayed across Mathieu’s abs, signaling him to stay still when he tried to buck his hips up to fuck his mouth.

“Ah, fuck-” Mathieu gasped, breathing hard and sounding wrecked. He grabbed a pillow and put it over his face, trying to muffle the sounds he’s involuntarily making. Everything was so tight, velvety hot and slick. The way Wout was working him felt incredible. The combination of not being able to make noise and not being able to move was making him more desperate than usual. He felt his pleasure build and build until he couldn't contain it anymore, and when Wout took him deep enough to hit the back of his throat he knew it’s over, placing a hand on Wout in warning right when he’s falling over the edge. Wout responded by taking him impossibly deeper, sucking and stroking him through his orgasm, Mathieu cursing and gasping as quietly as he could manage. Wout pulled off as he's about to get oversensitive, and he smoothed his hands over Mathieu’s sides, hips and thighs, gentle with him as he came down.

Mathieu, in his post-orgasmic haze, felt Wout sidle up against his side. Wout pressed a kiss on his slack mouth, sliding his tongue inside and making Mathieu taste himself. He grabbed Mathieu’s hand and put it on his own erection. He wrapped his hand over it, encouraging Mathieu to jerk him off together. Mathieu licked up the salty and bitter liquid on Wout’s tongue, sharing it in a passionate kiss, his hand moving hard and fast over Wout's cock. It didn't take long before Wout finished up too, coming all over their hands and panting into his mouth.

“Stay a while?” Mathieu asked, when they’d both come down and Wout’s up and about in the room, looking for something to clean them up with.

“Yeah. Corinne’s asked me to stay for supper,” Wout replied. He found a box of tissues, used a few sheets and handed the rest to Mathieu.

“What?” Mathieu's eyes widened. He wasn’t sure if he’s ready for this yet. Or if he’d ever be.

“I don’t know about Adri but I’m pretty sure your mom knows what’s going on,” Wout got back in bed, holding Mathieu close.

“Oh my god,” Mathieu hid his face.

“It’ll be fine,” Wout kissed his hair gently. They both drifted off to sleep for a few hours.


End file.
